Enough

When crazy, horrific events happen, the media stokes the flames of quick, panacea-seeking answers from the right and from the left. Politicians use these tragedies to rally their base for their pet crusades-- gun control, mental healthcare. Have we lost our ability to come together as a nation?

Have we lost our desire to solve the problems we face as a nation? We are not the generation that used its collective will, resources, intellectual trusts, and American ingenuity to win the space race. And yet,  I believe that potential is within us nonetheless. I have to. I'm a teacher who teaches the next generation with hope for tomorrow.

But, to be honest, I am disappointed in us as a nation. We would rather fight on extremes of every position rather than admit that each of the many issues we face: fossil fuel dependency, funding public education, climate change,  terrorism, health care, social justice, immigration, even the fiscal cliff, are complex problems with no simple answers, but with a collective will to solve them (rather than self-serving attacks to win a debates) we can. I refuse to believe that the progeny of the generation that put the first man on the moon is incapable of summoning its collective will to solve the problems of our nation.

Slowing Down Instruction

If you're a teacher, do you ever feel that, in order to hit your CORE objectives for the week, your daily lesson plan looks like Mulligan Stew? I do. Today, I wanted to read, interpret, and analyze an Emily Dickinson poem, introduce the proper function of the pronouns "who" and "whom," allow kids to get new books, renew, and check out books.. all while adding a tech component for "Tech Tuesday!" Ack! to quote Doonsberry comics from my youth.

If there was no library/Tech Tuesday component, I probably would have flown through my curricular objectives today, but I would have been "covering," not teaching. Even reflective, thoughtful teachers can fall into the trap of succumbing to jamming their lessons with too much. Tech slowed me down, and that is a good thing.

It took a while for kids to login to the network. Students still struggle with finding websites because they pay very little attention to detail. After a marking period and a half, some students still think my last name is a computer command and therefore mispelled the name of my room. Others received restriction notices on their screens because they mispelled todaysmeet... <sigh> the more eighth graders change, the more they stay the same. The ten -fifteen minute visit to the library turned into 20 minutes.

When everyone arrived back to the classroom, there was only time for reviewing the differences between nominative case and objective case pronouns. We slowed down--- we talked about how questions are often composed in the reverse order of statements in English and therefore it is possible that a direct object may be one of the first words in a sentence rather than one of the last words in that sentence. We also had time to learn the trick for who or whom:

1. Find the verb
2. Is "who" acting the verb?
3. If yes, then use "who"
4. If no, then use "whom"
5. If there is a preposition in front of the word use "whom" because it would be the object of the preposition.
6. If there is a linking verb and who is linked to the subject then use "who" (predicate pronoun)

So no Emily D. today but we did explore a different way to study nominitive case pronouns and students left with more ownership of case through the exploration of when to you "who" or "whom." The good news? I taught today, I didn't just cover some material and plow through more poetry exposure. That's a bonus for my students.

"Who is rich? He that rejoices in his portion." - Benjamin Franklin

Not me. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't want a networth with 9 zeroes behind the first numeral, especially this week, with the lottery jackpot eclipsing 550 million dollars. People dreamed aloud this week about what they could gain from that much money even after the hefty tax bite Uncle Sam would give the jackpot. I considered more what I would lose: privacy, peace, the ability to live life on my own terms.

I never want to live my life hounded by press and paparazzi bullying me about how the public has the "right to know" how my life had changed since I won the big prize. I empathize all too well with Emily Dickenson, when she declares: "I'm nobody, who are you?" I don't want long-lost relatives coming out of the woodwork with tear-jerking stories of woe designed to empty my wallet into their hands.

On the other hand, I learned, about a decade ago, that public school teachers are public figures too, and that meant I did not have as much of a right to privacy as I would already prefer. Once, I was slandered, along with some other teachers, guidance counselors, and administrators, that he railed against in a website of his own creation. The rants were truly those of a thirteen year old, and actually, I was flattered to be villified in the company of colleagues whom I repected and admired. Our building rep for the union requested that we seek legal consul.

When the union lawyer explained to us our vulnerability in such a case, we chose to go no further. It did not matter that someone was publishing a rant, railing against the rigor of my class or the strictness of an administrator. I could live with that, but the idea that, as a public figure, the burden of proof in a civil suit was upon me to prove the statements false, shook me.

Even with the drama of being a teacher, and the tyranny of being shackled to education reforms implemented by politicians with minimal input from educators in the field, I  rejoice in my portion. There is love in my life, support from family, friends, and colleagues, and I come to work every day to students who are genuinely happy to see me and who are waiting to see what they can learn from me.

Luck

Responding to Langston Hughes' "Luck"

I have no use for
rabbits' feet,
lucky charms,
or
pots of gold.
How lucky was
that foot
for the rabbit, anyway?
Lucky charms
lost,
now found-- where's
the luck
in that?
You know who's lucky?
You are.
You woke up
this morning.
Whether you had
a bad day
or
a good day
you had a day.
Every year
every month
every day
hour
minute
we roam the earth
we are lucky.
We can be
someone else's luck
to live,
to love,

to battle this journey of life,

it's luck.

Today is the second day of our poetry unit. We read two Langston Hughes poems to exercise active reading strategies on troublesome texts.
Today, students talked back to the text. The strategy is called, Talking To the Text in reading apprenticeship but I called it marginalia way before someone told me what I had been doing was new. (You know you're getting old when some new PhD is touting something you have been doing for years as a "new strategy.") Anyway, I didn't just want students to mark up the text with their own metacognitive inquiry, I also wanted them to respond to the ideas of his poem.

We brainstormed what we individually thought luck was: symbols, animals, events and phrases and then we contemplated what Langston seemed to think luck was. I don't agree with Langston's stanza that:

To some people
Love is given,
To others
Only heaven
(Daybook 11)

I shared my dissent with my classes and, as they brainstormed, I composed my reaction to the idea that luck is merely scraps from the table of joy that we like the family dog wait mournfully to retrieve, hoping all along a bone of luck will be flung instead.

I sat here earlier today trying to think what to write about this week. It has been nearly seven days since my last post. Showing students by example how to brainstorm, free-associate, and letting them see how you compose is pretty powerful. I didn't have the whining of "I don't know what to write." or "This is hard." They took the challenge and did the best they could.

It doesn't take much to make a happy teacher.

Bring Your Own Device Day One

I refrained from titling today's post "We Survived BYOD Day One" largely because there was nothing to survive. The servers did not crash, kids did not "test the waters" beyond having to be told once to put away their devices during an assembly-- no grumbling, back-talking or rolled eyes... every student appeared to understand that they were being given a unique privilege. The global issues of this experiment seemed to be a success.

Locally, my classroom delivery of instruction with the inclusion of devices sharpened over the day. If you ran into me after first or second period class today, I would have seemed harried and hagard. I was completely out of my comfort zone. Fortunately, I have third period planning and that "down time" gave me an opportunity to revisit my lesson, and figure out why I was uncomfortable. I usually enjoy workshop mode but it felt disjointed and the flow was "off."

We were in the library, which meant that everyone had the opportunity to use technology, whether they BYOD or not. I set up students with online exercises and resources on three web sources and suggested a fourth. What was "off" about periods one and two were more my issue than the students. The students seemed to react to the whole situation as if it was just a normal day.

My delivery felt out of balance because I am used to using print sources: textbooks and worksheets. Normally. I could monitor the progress of students copying notes off the board, then direct them to their textbook, then direct them to a handout, then direct them to applying the print resource to a draft. With students on smartphones, laptops, and tablets, they were all over the map in terms of directions. I could not as easily guide students through their activities for the day.

My solution? I borrowed the librarian, Mrs. Herring's, whiteboard. I proceeded to write out everything we were doing for the day. When students arrived, I walked them through the twelve things they had to do for the day, showed them where to find the sites on the overhead screen and fielded questions before we begin. Then I let them go. Suddenly the chaos was managed chaos again, and I was able to relax and observe, assess, respond, and clarify. Maybe it won't be that hard to be a 21st Century teacher after all?

What did we do today? I posted my crazy word of the day, root word of the day, word of the day, and thought for today on my school web page. (http://www.sesdweb.net/Page/3841) Just like in class, students had to write these things in their notebooks. Those who had tablets and laptops of their own were encouraged to rip the information from my page and save it in an English 8 folder. I posted a list of homophones I did not want students to continue to confuse anymore on edmodo.com. Students opened the posting and saved it on their device, or they printed it out, their choice.

For formative assessment, students were asked to tell me: what a subject and a verb were, what the difference was between singular and plural was, and what compound meant on http://wallwisher.com/wall/byod11062012. I posted their grammar work directions on edmodo, and created a drop box for them to send their answers to me paperlessly on edmodo. We were talking about how to make subjects and verbs to agree with compound subjects.

Lastly, I posted writing pitfalls for students to avoid on their final drafts that are due on Thursday. When I relaxed, I saw what I had read in Dina Spangenberger's master thesis about teaching 21st century learners. They were relaxed and seemed to feel truly at home, for the first time. I asked a few how they felt about today's crazy class and their answers were a variation of the same theme: finally.

BYOD Day One. We didn't survive. We succeeded.

Halloween 1971

            To understand the depth of my embarrassment, you would have to know Geraldine.

            In 1971, I was four years old, my two brothers, my two sisters, my parents and I spent many a weekend evening gathered in the living room transfixed to the television, laughing full-heartedly to The Flip Wilson Show. Flip Wilson was a hugely successful African American comedian and the first with his own television variety show. If you have watched re-runs of The Carol Burnett Show or Saturday Night Live, you know what a variety show is--- a series of skits, special guest stars, and recurring characters in familiar skits. Flip Wilson became famous for his recurring character on the show: Geraldine, a sassy red-haired nurse who always tried to weasel out of her bad behavior with her catch phrase: “The Devil made me do it!”

            Remember when I said it was 1971? Back then, nurses wore uniforms: white shoes, white stockings, a military-looking cap, a white skirt and a short sleeved white blouse. So every weekend we watched this grown man transform himself into a mouthy, hair flipping, neck rolling nurse-with-attitude complete with white stockings and a raspy alto-toned big mouth. This was the year my sisters and my parents had a horrible Halloween idea with me as their victim.

            In 1971, they made me Geraldine.

            Halloween preparation did not consist of frantic trips to the store to buy the latest Teen Aged Mutant Ninja Turtle, or Power Rangers or Spiderman costumes. My mom would not buy those cheap plastic costumes with the hazardous masks you couldn’t really breathe in or see out of. Our costume preparation was a frenetic push through medicine cabinets, and each other's wardrobes to create something out of what we already had.

            From what I could tell, the 60’s were the decade of the wig. Mom had white Styrofoam faceless heads with hair in the top of her closet. Unluckily for me, there was a red one, just the right length to give it the “That Girl” flip. For some reason, there were white stockings still laying around from when my sisters were my age, and someone must have been a nurse for Halloween at some point because they found a uniform that fit for me too.

            To this day, I still wonder “Where were my brothers and my father?” When the Logan women were done, the third son and been transformed into the icon of family weekend laughter: Geraldine, in all his/her scratchy red wig, leg-strangled, greasy, make-up wearing glory.

            The worse part was there were pictures! Someone actually saved the visual for future laughs--- at my expense. I remember Halloween, Geraldine, Flip Wilson and the attack of the Logan women.

Value-Free Education Is A Myth

I am a public school educator. This was not a random, "take life as it happens," choice. I chose to answer the call to education in the public sector. I am the product of public, parochial, and private education. I was taught by public school educators, Franciscan order nuns, and military tactical officers in my pre-baccelaureate educational career.

In the nineties, as a private citizen working in various industries that left me unfulfilled and vocationally adrift, I was bombarded by radio and tv messages. "Reach for the power, teach." was one slogan I remember. I also remember in college when an African American visiting professor at Kenyon College had the audacity (I felt at the time) to suggest to me that I had a responsibility to teach because I made it into to one of the top colleges in the nation, was successful there, and I needed to show others the way--- because I was African American. That one bugged me. First, I had zero interest in education as a career at the time-- we all knew that our teachers were overworked, undervalued, and underpaid. I also had been raised by parents who remembered the Jim Crow Era bad old days when the only things academically gifted black males were encouraged to do were to teach or preach.

She also was the first person to inform me I wasn't black, but that I was African American. Honestly, that was news to me. My elementary, middle, and high school transcripts all identified me as black. As a college sophomore, finding out someone changed the rules and decided for me how to claim my heritage was unsettling. It was the mid eighties and academia was encouraging all Americans to become hyphenated.

I did and still do have Countee Cullen's response to Africa in "Heritage" :

What is Africa to me:   

Copper sun or scarlet sea,   

Jungle star or jungle track,

Strong bronzed men, or regal black   

Women from whose loins I sprang   

When the birds of Eden sang?

One three centuries removed

From the scenes his fathers loved,

Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,   

What is Africa to me?

I was miffed, but I did not forget what she said to me. Nearly ten years later, I decided to go back to college to earn my masters and teaching credentials. I intended to teach urban education and I student-taught at West Philadelphia High School. My experiences there could fill a book and they shaped many of my ideas about adolescents and teaching them, but ultimately I ended up teaching in suburban and rural districts.

If teaching is a mission, (and I believe that it is) then we should teach where we can make the biggest impact. For me, I had to listen to my own inner voice. Was that impact going to be greatest in the inner city world that was so different from the life I had known and from the roots that gave me my values? Was I going to do the most good teaching the sons and daughters of captains of industry, finance, higher education, medicine, and manufacturing, or would I do the most good returning to my rural roots?

Having met with success in all three environments, I am (to date) still not sure of the answer. If success is receiving praise for your efforts by your peers, bosses, and clients (students and parents,) then I have made an impact everywhere. One concern I never had was whether I would teach public or private.

All students deserve highly qualified, well-rounded educators, regardless of the sequence of their zip code, their net worth, or their access to the 1%.  Are there schools that offer higher salaries? Yes. For the first time in my career, I teach in the community where I live and worship. I had always been leary of doing that, but it has been a powerfully positive experience. The community knows me not only as an educator but they know the rest of me too. It actually helps to recognize parents on back to school night because they sit in the congregation with you on Sunday mornings, checked out your groceries in the supermarket, inspected your vehicle, or helped you build an addition to the house. I have sung in the choir for years with grandparents of current students, live on the neighboring farm to an aunt. I have gone to national tournaments with neighbors of students and competed with them in leagues. They tease me about grading all the time. My commitment to my profession and to my students is known before many of them see my name on their child's schedule. All these connections actually help build trust in the teacher-parent relationship that is pivotal to a child's success.

Why not private? It's not the same. I lived in a military school environment for eigth and ninth grade. There was a sense of community but it was more regimented and less organic. Parochial education had a strong influence upon my values as a student an as an educator but there is a problem with access. In private schools, children are weeded out and preselected. I think someone who is a teacher at his core can teach any child anywhere. It also still shocks me that a private school in the Philadelphia suburbs offered me a teaching position even though I (at the time) had only a BA in English from Kenyon College and had never learned anything about pedagogy or about best practices. They didn't require that I had a teaching license or that I had gone through the vetting process public school teachers are subject to. I would only have been able to rely on my instincts as an educator without the background in the research to inform my instincts. I would have relied only on my limited life experiences and innate empathy to "read" my students-- no knowledge of adolescent psychology to have a sense of what was normal and what was unusual adolescent behavior. I didn't think I was ready to be a "dorm dad" and educator at 25 without that background.

I didn't believe that I would be giving these millionaires and movie star parents their $30,000/year tuition's worth in 1992. In 2012, I know that what my clients get for their modest investment of property taxes, from all of us, is an unbelievable bargain. They get better educated, better prepared teachers for a fraction of the price and they still get the advantage of small class sizes for optimum teacher accessibility.

I guess that is why I am protective of the influences I allow into my classroom. The values of our school are espoused in our district's mission statement: "Providing progressive education to strengthen the global community." That value is exemplified in our commitment to integrating technology into our pedagogy so that students may truly be global learners-- skyping with other classrooms around the nation and world, collaborating on shared projects. I plan to skype with my students from the USBC Master's tournament this winter in February. Our community food drives and community closet drives for those in need also show our  commitment to an enduring understanding that we are a global community and that we take care of each other. We are teaching values.

Last week, I received an offer to receive a free class set of Ayn Rand novels and I was horrorified at the suggestion that I indoctrinate my students with text whose theme runs against what we strive for. Ayn Rand emigrated to the US from the USSR. Her militant dogma of self-interest and individualism was in reaction to the tyranny of the collective she grew up with in communism. Her writings were embraced by some during the McCarthy era and red scare. It seemed insidious that I, a teacher in a cash-strapped district, would be approached to teach these novels, complete with teaching aids--without an appropriate counterpoint for students to engage in a discourse about the conflicting messages so that they might be able to form their own conclusions.

The head of my education program at UPENN told us something that seemed  somewhat revolutionary at the time. I did not understand it fully until I became an established teacher. He said to us "Teaching is a political act, there is no such thing as value-free education. Know what your values are when you teach. Your students already know what they are." I believe that every member of a community has value and that we have a responsibility to respect each other because only then can we uncover our roles. Can you believe this whole entry was sparked by a piece of junk mail?